


Sure As The Sky Is Blue

by lizook12



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Future Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-28
Updated: 2014-01-28
Packaged: 2018-01-10 09:11:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1157846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizook12/pseuds/lizook12
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He almost misses the whisper against his throat, the complete branding of him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sure As The Sky Is Blue

**Author's Note:**

> So I foolishly gave myself options for this concept, but thankfully had **hardrightturn** around to reaffirm my choice (and to encourage the writing of another of the options in a different way). Thanks, hun!
> 
> Title taken from Martina McBride's _I Love You_

Adjusting the books, notebook, and bags in his hand, he finally gives in and sinks to the floor. The line to meet Connie Willis is a long one and, even thirty people deep, he’s glad he told Felicity he’d save her spot.

They’d been in a Q & A with the author for the past hour and Felicity had wanted to wash the ink from all the little notes she’d taken during that time from her hand.

She’d scrawled tons of annotations all over the margins of her actual notes on what Willis was lecturing about: questions to ask if she had the chance, concepts that had such a strong basis in science that she thought they were worth investigating for QC... and their side activities...

He grins, remembering the cartoon arrow she’d drawn next to those.

Groaning, he stretches and slides back closer to the wall, his legs splayed out in front of him.

It’s been a long week.

Digg had gotten the best of him in sparring at least twice, he’d showed an unusual amount of clumsiness and walked into the bar at Verdant, and... well, really he just wasn’t used to Felicity’s mattress yet.

It would probably make more sense for them to move in together instead of him routinely packing an overnight bag, but he doesn’t want to rush her— _them_ —after two and a half months. Still...

The thought dies quickly at the familiar click of her heels on the other side of the hall and he leans forward, peering around the others in line to catch sight of her.

He lets his gaze slowly drift over her once he does, taking in the emerald pencil skirt and floral printed top, the slight stuttering of her breath, her flushed cheeks.

“...sprinted...see...line didn’t...move...” She exhales roughly, bracing herself against the wall above him and earning a tsk of derision from the tech boy in line behind them.

Oliver glares at him and has to suppress a wave of laughter as the man blanches and quickly buries himself in his smartphone. Shaking his head, he turns back to Felicity, shrugging at the way her lips are pressed together, her brow furrowed knowingly.

“What? He deserved it.” He smiles at how the corner of her mouth tips up, her shoulders relax as she carefully adjusts the purse on her arm. “I was starting to think you’d kidnapped Willis and made a run for it.”

“I would have called Digg to swap out my car for the cycle if I did; the woman’s almost seventy.”

“She wouldn’t be the first 70-year-old to ride a motorcycle. Hell, I expect we’ll still be going on rides then.”

She smiles softly at that and, god, he just wants to take her to the nearest conference room and show her all about good rides. He settles, instead, for grinning in response, another rough groan escaping as he pushes off the floor.

“Speaking of eighty...”

“Seventy!”      

“Whatever, old man.”      

Any decorum from the last minute flies out the window and he presses forward, crowding her against the wall. “Oh, I’ll show you old.” His hands grasp her hips roughly, teeth scraping over her jaw as her hand flattens against his chest and—

“Wait...” She inhales slowly, thumb brushing just under his collarbone as she attempts to shift away from him. “I brought you something; that’s what took me so long.”

Carefully, she reaches into her purse, gingerly pulling out a muffin and a cup of coffee.

His jaw drops a little, the rush of blood in his head overwhelming as warmth floods him. Before he realizes it, he’s laughing, his free hand flexing in the curve of her waist as he takes a sip from the cup.

Leaning close once more, he kisses the corner of her mouth, brushes his lips over her cheek, before taking another long drink. “Damn, I love you.”

They both still, recognizing it’s the first either of them have said it.

Even though they both feel it, show it daily, this is...

She closes what little space is left between them, the muffin becoming crumbs between their bodies as she rakes her hand through his hair and covers his mouth with hers.  

She's panting when she pulls away, eyes bright with desire and love and sheer happiness. It makes him unbelievably glad, ecstatic in a way he didn’t know possible, to know _he’s_ the cause. 

He’s so wrapped up in that thought, the feel of her fingers skating over the nape of his neck, that he almost misses the whisper against his throat, the complete branding of him.

“Good, because I love you, too.”

“Mmm, we’ll have to discuss it more... thoroughly... when we get home...” His arm falls over her shoulders as he lifts the (miraculously) nearly full cup once more. “The line’s starting to move.”

“Oh good. And...” She snatches her books from the floor, flipping open her notebook and leaning into him as they move forward. “Thoroughly and passionately it is...”      


End file.
